


Misdirection

by Miriam_Heddy



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-21
Updated: 2015-08-21
Packaged: 2018-04-16 09:06:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4619610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miriam_Heddy/pseuds/Miriam_Heddy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reid talks about flowers. Gideon listens, finally.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Misdirection

**Author's Note:**

> "Nonsense is a kind of exuberant capering round a discovered truth."  
>  _\-- G. K. Chesterton_

      **T** he important thing to remember--and it was certainly never far from his consciousness at any given moment--was that Spencer Reid was neither a child nor an adult. Certainly, chronologically-speaking, Reid was post-pubescent, but psychologically-- there, it became more complicated. Reid was still assimilating behaviors and attitudes that most young men picked up during their high school years, and thus, thinking of him as a fellow adult was premature, though, truth be told, it was impossible to work with him and not grant him that status, however conditionally.

And why _not_ stop there, with the fact that it _was_ impossible to work with him, though not so impossible that he didn't continue to do so, amazing himself each day that he did so without embarrassing himself? Why not linger a moment on that aspect of the problem which was most troubling?

"So essentially, you're saying the unsub's interest in orchids is _sexual_?" Reid's mouth twitched up into what might have been a smile and then he schooled his features into something more impassive--something Gideon was sure Reid was copying from watching his own face. The effect was disturbing, uncanny, and Gideon frowned, noticing that Reid frowned right back at him, a dangerous mirror--his own personal Dorian.  
  
" _Metaphorically_ , yes. The orchid has a long history of--"

"I know the history," Reid responded, too quickly, as if he still felt he needed to prove something. And Reid proceeded to share that information, in encyclopedic detail. "--and in lieu of a stamen and pistil, the orchid's male and female reproductive organs are fused together in the orchid's column--."

Gideon nodded, allowing him to fill in the details, not listening too carefully as he did so, knowing that Reid had to talk it out, connecting the theoretical information in that vast repository with the practical matter-at-hand--turning random facts into usable information that would get him somewhere--preferably out of this room as soon as possible. 

It was after-hours--everyone else on the team having left to enjoy brief forays into their own personal lives. This was not a new case they were discussing but was something Reid had picked up out of the cold cases, intrigued by something that had caught his eye, wanting Gideon's own input as he worked the case on his own time, which had somehow become Gideon's time as well, at least until another active case appeared on their desks, and then this would be put aside for another day, deferred and unsolvable.

Deferred and unsolvable? That did describe a myriad number of problems, including Reid himself. A mere twenty-four years of age, and possibly the most brilliant individual with whom he'd ever had the opportunity to work, and shallow though it might be, Gideon's own interest in him often seemed to have little to do with intellect and a helluva lot to do with that face--the wide-open eyes that suggested innocence where he saw too little of it anymore, and that mouth that often broadened into a smile he felt very deeply he could never deserve, especially when he so often imagined that same mouth on his own dick, those same eyes looking up at him.

So much for innocence, professional ethics, years of marriage that he'd considered at least somewhat successful, up to a point.

"Did you know that the word actually comes from the old Aryan standard root for testicle? 'Orghi'--And in the Greek, orchis. Early botanists noted that the flower's root bulb bore a striking resemblance to mammalian testes and in 1650, mistranslating from the Latin, someone added a 'd' to the word, and after that, Linnaeus named the family Orchidaea, which gave us the word 'orchid.' Folklore would have us believe that orchids spontaneously grow wherever animals have mated. And the Victorians felt that women shouldn't own orchids because of their sometimes vividly displayed reproductive organs."

"No, I did not know that," Gideon acknowledged, but Reid was still talking, sitting on the edge of the desk, his long legs crossed at the ankles. Talking or silent, sitting or standing, Reid's presence provoked in him desires that went well beyond those that might be considered appropriate.

"Hmm. Orchids are also known for their sexual mimicry. Many actually use teases and lures to ensure survival of the species. The Australian spider orchid--Caladenia argocalla-- issues a scent that confuses male wasps into mounting its lip, triggering the orchid to tip the wasp into the column, where it's covered in pollen only to fly out to be seduced and confused by another orchid. And Orphyrus sphegodes--known by botanists as the prostitute orchid-- also uses sexual deception to lure bees--."

This went well beyond anything he was comfortable admitting to even in the privacy of his own journal, to which he had obligated a certain level of truth-telling, however uncomfortable that truth might be. And there was no solution he could imagine implementing at this point beyond a certain wary--or perhaps merely weary--resignation.

"In Chinese hoa dieu painting, the orchid actually symbolizes nobility and modesty, and Asian orchid judges award higher point values to orchids with petals that conceal the reproductive organs, which suggests that the prizing in orchids of overt, uncontrolled sexuality is at least somewhat culturally specific."

Resignation--he had considered that, and considered that this fixation was a sign that he was not yet ready to return to the job. Such a fixation might be nothing more than transference of a sort, or simply a substitution of sex for death, both deferred, both denied, though death was inevitable and sex unlikely at this point in his life, and perhaps this, too, was what he was trying to tell himself through Reid. And if he accepted the inevitability of death--would that be enough to defuse this impractical attraction?

"-- and in Papua New Guinea, tribesman traditionally wear nothing but an elongated gourd tied on with an orchid chord. Are you even listening to anything I'm saying, by the way, or is this an exercise in seeing how long I'll go on talking about things that have nothing to do with our unsub?"

"At this point, we aren't ready to exclude any information as inessential."

"Including vegetable strap-ons?"

"I--what?" Gideon blinked. "Strap--"

"You really weren't listening."

"No--I was--of course I--"

"No--never mind. You're preoccupied with another lead which will, I'm sure, reveal itself to me in due time. But in the meantime, do you want me to continue to pursue the sexual angle or should I move on?"

Gideon frowned, feeling a few steps behind. "Use your judgment," he responded, finally, having no real idea where that might lead someone like Reid, whose judgment was still questionable--still leading him into confrontations with delusional psychotics on train cars and mediocre actresses in swimming pools.

Gideon watched as Reid looked down at his hands for a moment as if he was disappointed with that answer. And then Reid pushed up off of the desk, somehow putting himself directly in Gideon's path back to his own office. They both stood there, a moment, Gideon expecting Reid to move out of the way and Reid expecting-- what was he expecting?

"Do you ever leave here, Gideon?"

"Yes, of course I--"

"And what do you _do_? When you leave here?"

"I--"

"Because I go home and think about that." Reid glanced down at his hands again, then back up at Gideon, his eyes wide and-- troubled.

"You go home and think about--"

"You. What you do. Who you spend your time with, and what you talk about. What music you listen to when you're--" Reid faltered and color came to his cheeks.

"I don't think I understand what you're--"

"I don't think I do either," Reid said, moving toward him rather than out of the way.

Gideon took a step backward as Reid stepped forward, and Reid grabbed his arms as if to steady him but then just held on and pulled him closer, very close, and Gideon didn't have time to consider a response before Reid had tilted his head to the side and kissed him, and as kisses went, it was--.

" _Grand_."

Reid smiled softly, shyly, and Gideon took a breath, a deep one, trying to clear his head, because this was beyond the pale.

And Reid cleared his throat, his hand going to his own collar, loosening the tie there, though it was already knotted loosely at his throat, the top button long ago undone. 

"I read a poem once by Robert Williams Wood--"

"Never heard of him."

"Well, he was an American physicist specializing in resonance radiation and in the use of absorption screens in astronomical photography--"

"Who wrote poetry relevant to this situation?" Gideon asked, finding he hoped it was true, because he was out of his depths.

Reid nodded, and began to recite the poem from memory, naturally, and this time, Gideon tried to pay attention, though he found himself drawn to watching Reid's mouth, no longer quite so worried he might be caught doing so.

"The Auk and the Orchid. That's what it's called."

"The Awk?"

"The A-U-K Auk. It's a sort of seabird like a--like a penguin."

"And the Orchid," Gideon said, still thinking about Reid's mouth, seeing Reid's eyes, wondering that he still saw such innocence there, but also--something else. 

Reid nodded and licked his lips. "The, um, the Auk and the Orchid, by Robert Williams Wood.

"We seldom meet, when out to walk,  
Either the orchid or the auk;  
The auk indeed is only known  
To dwellers in the Auktic zone,  
While orchids can be found in legions,  
Within the equatorial regions.  
The graceful orchid on its stalk,  
Resembles so the awkward auk;  
'Tis plain we must some means discover,  
To tell the two from one another:  
The obvious difference, to be sure,  
Is merely one of temperature.  
For eskimos, perhaps the Auk  
Performs the duties of the stork."

Reid stopped speaking and Gideon realized he was expected to comment on the poem.

"That makes very little sense. You say he was a scientist?"

"Yes. It's a nonsense poem. Lewis Carroll was a mathematician, so there might be some--"

"Aspect of nonsense that appeals," Gideon said, wondering what the hell this had to do with anything.

"Yes. I suppose. But it--" Reid swallowed, and Gideon watched his Adam's Apple, the long line of his neck as he swallowed. "Gideon, I _think_ about you. All the time, I think--"

"You think about _everything_ ," Gideon said, recognizing it as a weak protest not really worthy of Reid's clear distress.

Reid was now standing so close that Gideon could have no doubts about the nature of those thoughts of his, though what _music_ he listened to while he--

Reid bit his lower lip. "I'm sorry-- I don't know what I was thinking."

"I suppose I'm the auk in this scenario?"

Reid expelled a breath and shrugged, the movement emphasizing his spare, angular frame. "I donât-- maybe I-- look, I wouldn't read too much into it."

"I read into everything, as do you, I think. And if we were going to take this children's poem seriously--"

"It's a _nonsense_ poem, not a-- not a _children's_ poem." And then, after a deep breath, Reid added, "It's been a long time since I was fourteen."

"Ten whole years," Gideon observed before realizing how that would sound to a man he'd just held in his arms.

"This was clearly a mistake." Reid looked away, staring at some fixed point in the middle distance, and Gideon felt badly for that--and yet perhaps it needed to be said now, rather than when it was too late.

"Spencer, I don't think you look like you're fourteen or-- twelve." Lines had appeared on Reid's forehead between his eyebrows, and Gideon reached up and smoothed them out with his hand, tracing over the arch of Reid's eyebrows, down his cheekbones, coming to rest on Reid's lips. His thumb rubbed across Reid's chin, the roughness of stubble a pleasant contrast to the smooth, soft mouth. "Nevertheless, this simply isn't possible."

"What if I don't accept that you're correct in your assessment?"

" _I_ accept that you also think about blonde girls-- damsels in distress with swimming pools. And you _should_ be thinking about them at this point in your--"

"Jason, I kissed a girl, yes, and it was-- an interesting experience. I won't deny that it was-- edifying, for a number of reasons. But it apparently doesn't change who I am and what I want 'at this point in my life,' which is _you_."

"Well, I have no interest in being another interesting, edifying experience."

Reid licked his lips and ran a hand through his hair, pushing it behind his ear. "And I'm not _asking_ you to edify me, because you'd do that _anyway_ , whether I asked or not. That's what you do--you teach. It's what I do--I learn. Though I should mention that I actually already have a pretty good sense of how to accomplish what I want to accomplish _without_ instruction."

"You've read some books." Gideon almost laughed, because he could imagine Reid at the library, or more likely nowadays, online, absorbing all the he thought he needed to know, and more than that, everything there _was_ to know.

"I--" Reid blushed and twitched nervously. "Look, I've _memorized_ some books, yes, and I'll type up an annotated bibliography if you need one."

"I don't think that will be necessary."

Reid almost smiled, but then seemed to recognize that Gideon had still not said yes. "So then you're rejecting me based on a lack of practical experience? Because I'd argue that's short-sighted of you and-- and considerably underestimates my ability to integrate and act on new information in real time."

"I'm not--"

"And if you're rejecting me because you don't find me attractive then I'd have to say I don't know how to interpret your kissing me just now."

"You kissed me," Gideon pointed out.

"And I can't conceive of a compelling reason we shouldn't do that again."

Gideon noted that Reid _didn't_ move to kiss him again, leaving Gideon to provide him with the compelling reasons. _I teach and you learn._ This was among the reasons he had serious reservations, though he chose the other, more obvious ones to voice.

"I'm your boss. I am also considerably older than you. And were that not the case, the government does not look upon such relationships as you propose with any kindness, not those between coworkers and even less so those between two men, who--. " He stopped, running out of words.

"Is that it?"

Gideon nodded. "That's it. That's all I've got right at this moment. It's been a very long day, and I think it's enough."

Reid smiled softly and leaned in and before he could protest further, had kissed him again, suggesting that none of those reasons fulfilled Reid's criteria for compelling arguments.

And thank God for that, because that first kiss was _not_ enough, and the second was, once again, beyond compare, though this time the kiss was a good deal more suggestive of some of those things Reid had read about.

He let his right hand move down Reid's body to the front of his trousers, cupping and pressing against his erection, wanting to be sure. Reid thrust his hips forward and held onto him, kissing him with a single-minded, raw intensity of youth, and something more that reflected the world that Reid had seen--that had aged him beyond his years yet still left him somehow more open, as if he refused to admit that the world might let him down.

"I don't usually listen to any music," Gideon explained when Reid finally released him to take a few much-needed breaths.

"You don't?" Reid sounded surprised.

"No. I sometimes sing in the shower. But not when I-- think about you."

"You think about me in the shower? What do you sing?" Now Reid sounded curious, amused, and Gideon felt himself flush, not sure how to answer either of those questions--feeling suddenly wrong for having admitted that much--for having let things proceed as far as they had. 

"Who was it who said, 'I don't want to be a genius - I have enough problems just trying to be a man'?"

"Albert Camus," Reid said, quickly, and looked at him with those eyes-- smiled at him with that mouth. 

Gideon nodded. "Camus also said, 'You know what charm is: a way of getting the answer yes without having asked any clear question.'"

Reid seemed to need some time to think about that, and finally blinked at him as it occurred to him what question Gideon was answering. "You're saying _yes_?"

Gideon stepped around Reid and went to his own office, coming back after a moment with his jacket and bag, seeing that Reid was still standing there, his hands in his pockets, his head bent as if he was studying the floor, and Gideon took his arm, stopping to grab Reid's bag for him and leading him out and into the hall, out of the building and into the night, and for just a while, the quiet was a familiar, comfortable thing between them.

But outside, Reid swayed against him as he walked, seeming almost drunk, off-balance, as if the wind or some other force of nature were affecting only him, leaving Gideon himself untouched. After the third time their shoulders brushed, Reid's hand touching his as if to grab it, Gideon stepped away from him purposefully, forcing him to stand on his own, immediately missing the fleeting press of his body but knowing it was necessary.

Reid said nothing, leaving him to break the silence awhile later to reveal yet more of himself, expecting that, tomorrow, he might well come to regret it, but not minding that possibility right at the moment, because Spencer Reid was a man who he trusted above all else. He spoke softly, so that Reid had to move closer to hear him, and once again their hands were almost touching. He left his hand where it was, not drawing back. "It is very often the highlight of my evening, stuck in a hotel room, alone, trying not to think, and thinking of you."

Reid turned toward him, opening his mouth and then shutting it again, reconsidering, revising, almost certainly thinking up yet more difficult questions, all of which Gideon would struggle to answer as honestly and completely as he could. Gideon braced himself for whatever Reid asked, but Reid said nothing, merely nodding, his face giving away almost nothing but for a faint trace of a smile and a slight flush of his cheeks and, yes, his hand slipping into Gideon's own.

  


—FIN—

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [perpet_fic](http://perpet-fic.livejournal.com/) for making me say, "Oh what the hell" and writing and for betaing.
> 
> And thanks to Mandy Patinkin, who provided the soundtrack while I wrote this, and whose voice is now in my head.
> 
> © 2006


End file.
